Raising her hand in a wave, she felt happy that, yes, she loved Cassian in a more realistic way, and that open and honest communication was the pillar on which their love stood strong. Cassian could tell her and his dad anything, ask them anything, and that was something Lawrence could only dream of. Oh no, as the oldest Kelleway and only boy, he had to continue with the illusion, polish the façade, hoping and praying that he could hold things together long enough to avoid watching his parents fold, crushed with disappointment at any perceived failure.
For Winnie and Bernie to learn that their boy made of gold was actually only dusted with the thinnest veneer, which was rapidly wearing to reveal his dull, unshiny interior, would be too much. Their son. Her husband. The man who grew up with his sights on the Premier League and had ended up hauling bricks and eventually building houses, including some as grand as their own palatial pile on Newman Road.
Not that she saw anything wrong in hauling bricks for a living, far from it. It was just a shame Lawrence didn’t feel the same. She knew that whatever he achieved, wherever they lived or what car he drove, it would never, could never, come close to putting on the number ten jersey for Spurs, and that was something he couldn’t seem to get over.
In the early days, it had been her belief that with enough love and reassurance she could take away that feeling of failure, help him see what really mattered in life and that it wasn’t kicking a football. Not that any of it mattered now; they had so many bigger things to worry about.
‘You okay, Dom?’ she asked her daughter, who walked a little behind them, tapping away into her phone.
‘Just arranging to meet Rubes once we get this over and done with. It’s Friday night.’ Her girl’s terse reply.
‘I know, but it’s also Nan and Grandad’s anniversary. Please just—’
Domino tutted. ‘For God’s sake, Mother, I knowah!’
Julie felt the sting of her daughter’s dismissal and tried to imagine talking to her own mother at sixteen, indeed at any age, in a similar manner. It was unthinkable. But then there was much that was unthinkable about her life. It was a lot like living in a play, where the audience believed what they saw, and only the players on the stage knew the reality. In truth, she often wanted to exit stage left and shatter the façade.
‘What’s wrong with you?’ Lawrence toyed with his car keys, asking Domino face to face with no mention of the attitude she had directed at her mother.
‘What’s wrong with me is that it’s Friday night, I’m stuck here with you lot and when I do go out later, I’ll be wearing this shit I found at the back of my wardrobe!’ She clutched at the sheer blousethat perfectly skimmed her slender waist. ‘And I want to be back in Melbourne! That’s what’s wrong.’
It was the same refrain Julie had heard in so many variants since the plane had ascended the runway in Tullamarine. This was one of the reasons Julie went easy on her daughter, let her get away with more than she knew to be wise, because she felt guilty that loading her family on to the plane with such urgency had been partly her fault; she had allowed it, been too compliant, too trusting to rail against it. Her daughter’s appalling lack of respect was, she knew, only one of the consequences of her inaction.
‘I think you look beautiful.’ Lawrence spoke softly, missing the point entirely that his role in that moment was not to bolster their daughter’s already strong self-esteem, but to remind her how lucky she was, how much she had, and how it was only stuff, only clothes ... Julie could well imagine how that speech might have gone down. He had always done this; let guilt steer his parenting choices, while giving in to their daughter’s material demands.
But did she really have a right to judge? Was she any different? Was going easy on Domino not as bad? It was as if her husband thought showing love meant the showering of gifts, the providing of things, and she could hardly blame him, having seen this very theory at play from his parents. This, too, she had thought she could erase, show him another way. Again, she nestled her bag to her chest.
Domino ignored her dad and shook her head with obvious irritation. Her lips narrowed and pressed together, an expression which in Julie’s view took away a little of her beauty, but not nearly as much as using such a tone at her tender age or the absolute disdain in which she held the life of privilege they had both worked so hard to provide did. In truth, Julie had grown weary of fighting with her daughter, and had almost thrown in the towel. It was hard enough to find the energy to keep bailing in a ship that was, if notsinking, then certainly listing, without trying to tackle her daughter’s attitude, again. What would she think if she were an outsider looking in?Lazy parenting...defeatist...spoiled brat...weak... Yes, to all the above. Awareness of this didn’t make her feel good. But to those outsiders she would say,‘Try walking in my shoes for a day and you too would find it hard to summon the energy when your heart is sad and your head is full of what comes next. It is harder than you know ...’
Domino went back to her phone, no doubt planning with Ruby Powell, who lived on the Merrigo estate where Julie herself had grown up. The council estate where she had lived wrapped in love and where she would lie awake at night on the bottom bunk, happy, safe, and warm. Without full realisation of just how glorious and nurturing her young life was, she would wonder what it would be like to one day travel and then return to live in one of the big houses up on Newman Road.
Well, now she knew. Her mouth twisted into a wry smile. She sometimes wished she could go back, alter her aspirations, knowing with certainty that if she hadn’t believed the route to happiness and satisfaction was in the acquiring of things, owning a spare bedroom or two, then she probably wouldn’t have been so enamoured with a boy like Lawrence Kelleway ... or maybe that was unfair. Looking now at her two beautiful kids, she knew she would make the same choices all over again if it meant she got them.
Without discussion, in a familiar pre-arrangement, Lawrence, who as per his MO had enjoyed more than the odd glass, handed her the keys to his beloved Merc. She opened the doors and, popping the boot, she placed her precious handbag inside. Domino and Cassian took up their places on the back seat and buckled up, while she climbed in and adjusted the mirrors. She knew this bothered her husband but couldn’t face explaining yet again that no matter how much it might piss him off having to make minoradjustments to the mirrors when it was his turn to drive, it was far better than crashing in a ball of flames because she couldn’t see a bloody thing!
She watched him clamber into the leather passenger seat of their luxurious car and let his head loll backwards.
‘Did you all have a nice time? Food was lovely, wasn’t it? I’ve eaten far more than I should.’ She spoke to the kids in the rear-view mirror, trying to stoke the embers of conversation.
Cassian nodded.
‘Thought you were a little quiet, love.’ She smiled at him as the engine roared into life. ‘Was it all a bit much? I heard Nan teasing youagain.’ This she spoke loudly, reminding Lawrence that it was his mother and that maybe he should have another word with Winnie about her outdated and sometimes dangerous interior monologue that she liked to spill whenever the fancy took her.
‘Cass, you’re so handsome, you don’t need to worry about grades! Who wouldn’t give you a job?’
‘Domino, you’re too skinny, you’ve not been making yourself sick after eating, have you? I know it’s all the rage, but you honestly don’t need to do that! You’re perfect just as you are!’
‘I’m okay.’ Cassian kept his gaze beyond the window. Georgie pulled out and slid past them. Everyone waved and they all waved back. For the love of God! It felt never-ending, the pantomime.
‘There he goes, Georgie boy in his salooooon.’ Lawrence snorted laughter and waved at his family as they passed.
‘Don’t be mean.’ She spoke as she popped her glasses on and indicated.
‘I’m just saying, does the man not have any shame? Driving around in that old lady car? And my poor sister, knowing that’s the best she can hope for!’ He tutted.
‘Why’s it an old lady car?’ This had seemingly caught Domino’s attention.
‘Because it’s a car for carrying cat baskets to the vets. A car for loading up with prunes, biscuits, soup and other horrible food that old people eat. And it’s dusty and I bet a pound to a pinch of shit that he’s got ketchup and mayonnaise sachets in the glove box and a few dozen McDonald’s sauces for just in case. In fact’ – he twisted to face their daughter – ‘there’s probably half a dozen old chicken nuggets under the passenger seat and sweets in the drink holders.’
